The Unfinished Painting
by Master Jesse
Summary: .:Complete:. If you left something unfinished how long would you wait to finish it?
1. Act 1: The Masque

Disclaimer: I don't own it. Blah Blah Blah.

The Unfinished Painting

Act I: The Masque

"Have you seen our Lord's new guest?" A young maid whispered to the boy standing across the sink from her. The boy looked up, wiping his golden hair from his eyes. Those amber eyes, larger than other boys his age, locked on the girls. She squirmed under his gaze.

"No. My Lord has me running errands all day. Who is it?" His voice was raspy and harsh from illness.

"The Lord's godson, orphaned recently. He has come to live here."

"An orphan?" The boy rubbed his shoulder, underneath a scar from a rough childhood.

"Yes, he is a beautiful young lord. His hair is as dark as a raven's feather. Tall and quiet. Us maids fight over which one will take him his meals," the girl giggled, a light blush blossoming on her cheeks.

"I must go. My Lord does not like me gone for long these days," he replied curtly. He wanted to stay and talk to her, but what he said was true. He bowed his head to her and turned to leave.

"Fare the well, K-" A loud crash sounded, and the girl turned shocked, cutting her call short.

- - - - -

The wind blew softly. The pages of the book the young lord was reading ruffled in the breeze. He placed the book on the table next to him and went to the doors of the balcony. He stepped out leaning against the rail. He looked out over the land.

The stone courtyard below was filled with servants and peasants bustling around with their business. The dark-haired lord sighed angrily. Even if he had been born of noble birth, he had never liked the facts of the day. Slavery bothered him greatly.

He spied one servant from his perch above the courtyard. The servant stopped running, suddenly he bent over and shook violently. Nobody around him reacted as if it was normal. The boy stood, and looking around, started to run again.

There was a knock at the door then it creaked open carefully.

"My Lord?" A young girl called nervously.

"Come in," he called, walking back into his room. He shut the door, shutting out the wind.

"Out Lord has invited you t' join him and d' rest of d' court t' a masque."

"As he wishes," the boy mumbled. He sat on a couch and started reading again. A little while later he noticed the burn of someone's gaze. He looked up to see the girl staring at him. "You can go, and next time you don't have to ask."

The girl curtseyed then ran out the door, bowing as she shut it, nearly shutting her hair in the door. Giggles sifted through the air as a gang of maids rushed down the hall away from the chamber.

- - - - -

"I'm sorry!" The light-haired boy cried, before flinching.

"It's okay," a gentle hand pet the boys head. The boy looked up in shock. He was expecting anger, or at least some peevish manner.

"My Lord?"

"Marie told me that you had another fit. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Sire."

"How have you been? It seems that you have been having more fits these days."

The boy looked to the ground, he had, even more than the lord knew, it was partly because he had been suppressing his powers, and it was taking a toll on his body. "I have, but it is no concern of yours," he replied politely.

"Very well," the Lord replied, his eyes narrowing slightly. He nodded and started further into his suites. The boy followed behind him.

"Have you met my godson yet?"

"No M' Lord."

"You would like him," he said sitting at the desk.

"I'm sure I would," the boy commented idly as he picked up the papers scattered on the floor around the desk. He placed a pile up on the desk before pulling the remaining papers to him. He climbed to his feet.

When he looked up a pair of brown eyes were glaring at him. _'Out now!'_ the lord's thoughts range out in his head. He bowed quickly then left the room, shutting the door.

He wandered through the rooms he had grown up in. Picking up the room had become second nature to him, he fluffed the pillows on the bed, closed the doors to the closets, straightened the rug in front of the doors, and the sat at the door of the office, listening.

He listened closely as the lord shouted silently about land deals and taxes. It sounded if he was going to take a long time so he got up and knocked on the door.

"You can leave, come back in a few hours," the lord called through the door.

"Yes, Sire," the boy replied. He left the suites and rushed down the hall. He turned the corner and nearly ran into someone, but he avoided them deftly. He continued on bursting through the door to his room.

He threw himself on his bed. "Finally some sleep," he sighed, drifting off.

- - - - -

After his run in with a whirlwind of blond hair he continued on to his godfather's room. He knocked on the door and awaited the call from inside.

"I said a few hours," a voice called.

The raven haired lord opened the door and stepped inside. "Excuse me?"

"Ah, I'm sorry. I thought you were someone else."

"A Masque?"

"Yes, the day after tomorrow. It should be an interesting time."

"Is that what everybody is running around for?" The young lord asked, his eyes drifting to the windows lining the wall.

"It is. You'll have to excuse me, it is not that I don't want to talk to you, but I must be going. I have a few people to talk to before dinner. Will you be joining us?"

"No," he said, walking back out the door. He ignored the huff that came from behind him as he left without saying good bye.

The days passed as they had before. On the morning of the masque, a box was sitting next to his bed.

He pulled out the mask lying just under the lid. A crow's mask. Red gems spread out decoratively on the black mask. He pulled out the shirt, with two red feathers hanging off the end of the sleeves, and the matching pants. A complete outfit. He sighed, one less thing to do for the masque, he didn't want to go to.

- - - - -

"Really?!"

"Yes, you can come."

The boy hugged the lord, who in return pet his head softly. "No go get ready. Your mask should be in your room." He pushed the boy playfully toward the door. The boy bowed before running off happily.

He opened the box sitting on his bed and a huge smile spread across his face. He pulled the mask to him hugging it tightly. He held it out in front of him and admired the blue crystals decorating the cat mask. He pulled on the jacket that lay silent in the box. He carefully buttoned it, not wanting to tear the fabric. The pants that went along were tighter than he had been expecting, but they fit him perfectly. He pulled on his boots, the only shoes he had and started to the lord's room. The mask rested in his crossed arms. The door to the lord's room was open, so the boy stepped in cautiously.

"My Lord?"

"This is a nice look for you," the lord whispered from behind the boy.

"Thanks to you," he replied, bowing to hide the heat in his face.

"You can't do that tonight," he said, pulling the boy's face up by his chin. The boy nodded quickly. "Now help me with this coat. It needs your touch." The lord pulled on the coat and stepped onto a step stool.

The boy took in the coat, along with the rest of him. The boy tugged at the fabric and started altering it to fit him as it should.

"Have the tailors seen this yet?"

"Yes, but they don't know me like you do."

The boy worked silently, cutting and sewing parts that needed to fit closer. His mind wandered as he worked, and the first time he'd seen the lord came to him. He was four or five, and the lord had tripped on his coat. He'd come into the tailor's, which had taken in the boy, shop, and the boy had kept him company while the coat was being shortened. A year later both of the lord's parents died, and he took over the manor. Even though he was only fifteen he still ran the manor better than his father had.

The boy took the lord's sleeve in his hand, adding a light trim to the edges. His fingers brushed the lord's hand, and a woman's face passed across the boy's eyes. The next thing he knew the lord was leaning over him with a concerned look about his face.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine," the boy said, climbing to his feet. He went to finish the coat, but the lord pulled back hesitantly. After a reassurance it wouldn't happen again the lord let him finish. The boy held back the tears as he finished the trim. It hurt him to know how much the lord missed the late mistress.

They tied on their masks and left for the Masque.

The lord entered quite inconspicuously. He sat at his chair without anyone noticing. A flash went off and all eyes flicked to the dias. Gasps spread through the crowd when the fog cleared, revealing the lord. His flashy entrance loved by all. He smiled and waved people on. The music resumed, and people started dancing.

The boy stood next to the lord's chair swaying with the music. The lord turned in his chair, facing the boy. He stopped moving and dropped his gaze to the ground.

"I wish I could join you out there, but I can't. Now go have fun," he said with a sad smile.

The boy paused wanting to bow. Instead, he nodded slowly then walked off the dias, with one last look back the crowd swallowed him up.

- - - - -

The raven lord danced around the room, numerous ladies had pulled him into the Masque's festivities reluctantly.

The lady he was circling the room with at the moment was rather plump, and looked like she was going to pass out any minute. He slowed his step, not wanting to have to carry her to a chair if she did. The lady pulled closer, thinking he was slowing for intimacy. The song ended and the pair separated.

Before another lady could attack him, he made his way toward the exit. A strange feeling rushed over his skin. He stopped and glanced around casually. His eyes caught a woman ditching her date and starting toward him. He groaned and started to go. Something hard hit his leg. He looked down and grabbed the person's arm before they ruined their mask on the floor.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm sorry," the victim said, straightening up. The amber eyes behind the cat mask looked up at him with fleeting fear, until defiance filled them. He stepped forward, but grimaced as he shifted his weight. He tried to continue on, but his leg gave way. The young lord wrapped his arm around his waist and walked him over to the chairs lining the room.

"Thank you," the cat boy murmured softly.

"No, thank you," the lord replied as he noticed the looks from the women returning to the people around them. "You've saved me."

"How so?"

"I'll finally get to rest. The women have been attacking me all night."

- - - - -

The boy looked up at the crow man cautiously. The eyes of the crow were searching the room. Finally they landed on him.

"Are you okay?"

"Fine."

"Were you enjoying yourself?" The lord asked, seeming to want to keep himself looking occupied.

"Yes, this was my first masque." The boy looked over the young noble sitting next to him. The black outfit suited him perfecting, the mask resting perfectly on his face only leaving his chin and lips uncovered.

The boy stared and the lord, unsure what to do. He was told to act noble, but if he did, and he was caught; what would happen to him?

"Your first? I was told this court has tons of masques."

"It does, I've just never gone," he paused then said what he wanted to say for quite some time. "It doesn't seem right that no servants are allowed to join. They are the ones that worked their hardest to make this." He chose his words carefully. The eyes behind the mask seemed to light up.

"True. I am sorry for ruing your first."

"No, M' Lord, it was my fault."

"If you say so." An eyebrow rose under the mask. The eyes stared at the other mask, a smirk spreading across his face. "Why did you call me 'M' Lord'?"

The boy paled. He smiled brightly, and shrugged. Hoping he would let it go.

- - - - -

The pair sat for the rest of the night on the side. When the lord told the cat boy about the plump woman, the boy laughed until it turned into one of his fits. The crow pet the boys back, but instead of helping it only made things worse. The boy froze. He turned quickly to the young lord. He got up and rushed away, as quickly as he could on his twisted ankle.

Underneath his mask were tears, not of joy, but of fear and sorrow. The young raven haired lord looked after him in confusion. He pulled off his mask and started to the door, revealing to all his shock.

-------------------------------------

A/n: Yay! I've finally gotten around to typing this up!

I started writing this a little while back after watching Ever After, fell in love with the Noble/Servant pairing.

Now that I am COMPLETELY DONE!!! I can start typing it up and uploading. Yay! Prepare for one a week.

That is, if I get reviews, if not, I'll update when I get around to it. (In other words REVIEWS PLEASE! I really want to know what you guys think!!! ''' )

-MJ


	2. Act 2: The Limb

Disclaimer: All Hail to the almight CLAMP! and thier ultra-super-spiffy-uber-cool-awesome Clamp-ness. 

The Unfinished Painting

Act II: The Limb

The lord returned to his suites after spending the whole masque watching his godson and his favorite spend the whole night together. He opened the doors and saw the cat mask and outfit he'd given the boy piled neatly on his bed.

He'd seen the final exchange between the pair so he went to his bed and kneeled down next to it. He peeked under the bed and saw two eyes staring at him.

"Come out of there."

The boy climbed out from under the bed and rushed to the lord, burying himself in the coat. The lord rubbed the boy's hair.

"What did you see?"

"Blood and pain. So much blood. Everywhere," the boy sobbed, his body shaking.

The lord sighed. He moved the boy to the bed and tucked him in. A few minutes later his cries quieted and he fell asleep, his grip on the lord's hand loosened. The lord went to his office and started working. His pen scrawled across the page in a flurry of scripted letters. His hand stopped, the pen resting in his hand. He placed the pen next to his papers and leaned back in the chair. His head falling back, a tired expression across his face. He rubbed his head, his eyebrows furrowing.

He looked up expecting a knock of concern, but there was no knock. He sighed, sending a ripple through the papers. He hated times like these when he couldn't do anything. He hated it even more when the boy's attention was on somebody else. He wanted nothing more than to drag the boy back to the dias away from his godson, but he didn't. It would have revealed much more than he was willing to reveal, to the court, but mostly . . .

He looked up at the door. After staring at it with a peculiar look about his face he got up and opened the door. The boy was still sleeping on the bed. It was expected, after all. The horrendous murder that had left their guest parentless, not to mention that he nearly lost his mind, would have weakened him greatly. The lord changed into his sleeping clothes. He pulled a chair over next to the bed and relaxed into it.

- - - - -

The wind blew jet black strands around in the night. The young lord looked up into the stars. His grip tightened on the railing of the balcony. Thoughts of his parents invaded his mind and again his grip tightened. A gun went off in the woods surrounding the land of the manor. He pulled back quickly, briefly startled. He looked down at his hand, a stream of crimson streaked down his hand and onto his wrist. He glided to the closet and pulled a rag down, wrapping it around his hand. He sat back out on the balcony's edge.

He sat until the sky bled golden. Thoughts of the mask and amber eyes locked in his mind. As the sun climbed into his nest in the sky the young lord sunk into his bed. As he was drifting off a knock came at the door. He pulled the covers over his head, but the knock came again.

He shuffled angrily to the door, opening it. He was expecting a young giggling maid to be on the other side, but there wasn't. The older man stood defiantly in front of him. He could tell that the old man hated being ordered around by people younger than he.

"Our lord requests your presence in his office."

"Tell him I will join him later, please."

"He says now." The man's eyes sharpened, he glared at the young lord.

"As he wishes," the young lord sighed, realizing he had lost. He stepped into his shoes and followed the old man down to the lord's suites. The old man opened the door and nodded him in. He shut the door behind him. As the young lord walked through the rooms, he caught sight of the cat mask from the night before. A sour feeling grew in his stomach. He knocked on the lord's door.

"Come in."

He opened the door and froze. His grip tightened on the doorknob, pain flaring to life from the cut on it. The eyes from the Masque were standing behind his godfather. The eyes widened in apparent panic. They flicked between the two lords before settling on the ground.

"Come in and shut the door."

The young lord did as he was told. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the paintings on the wall shaking. His control was slipping this time from confusion and not anger. He sat where the lord had nodded.

The lord jerked his head toward the door. The boy bowed slightly before leaving. The raven lord's eyes followed his departure.

"Stay away from him," the lord said as the door shut.

"What?" his eyes flicked back to the lord.

"As an order from your lord you are to stay away from him. As a request from your father's brother don't let him come in contact with you."

"May I ask why?" His heart ached at the mention of his father. He looked at the man sitting in front of him, he didn't look like he had just moments before. He looked concerned, something a lord should never show.

"You may ask, but I am not going to tell you." He waved his hand dismissing him. Huffing sharply, he stood up and left. The door slammed behind him. He winced maybe he shouldn't have done that. He shrugged and continued on, back to his room and most importantly, his bed.

- - - - -

It had been nearly two weeks since the masque. There hadn't been more than five minutes when he wasn't with the lord. He could feel the tension from the lord, and it was beginning to weigh on him. He slipped out of the bed, and changed into his clothes. He listened closely at the door before turning the knob slowly. He peeked out into the room and sighed, a small sound barely audible. He crept toward the main doors to the suites, his feet barely touching the ground. His hand rested on the knob to the outer door. He started to turn it when a hand fell on his wrist.

"Where are you going?"

"If I may, I was going to spend the day in the woods."

"Then I'll send . . . " the lord's sentence cut short.

"Please may I go by myself. I need the quiet." He rubbed his head softly.

The lord pulled his hand back and nodded. The boy bowed graciously before leaving. He walked briskly down the hall, once he turned the corner he broke into a sprint. He wove deftly through the people in the hall and courtyard. Once he was well into the forest he slowed, his feet growing heavy. He walked slowly through the trees, eyes searching the ground and bushes. His energy waned. He sat against a tree, his breath slowly and his eyelids falling down. A crow cawed, the sound echoing through the trees.

- - - - -

"I'll do that," the young lord said, taking the newly cleaned sheets from the servant girl at the door. She looked up, shock in her eyes. She started to protest, but the lord quieted her with a hand on her shoulder. "You've been working too hard, go rest." The girl blushed as she closed the door.

The raven lord stripped and made his bed. He yearned to fall down and sleep in the fresh bedding and let sleep take him, but that was all he had been doing lately. He was growing restless. He finished the bed and sat at his desk. A piece of paper lay in front of him. He picked up the pen and prepared to write, but his hand stopped. His thoughts overcame him, and he tapped the desk idly with the pen. One of his happier memories played out. As the memory darkened, tainted, a hand fell on his shoulder. He jumped, a vase broke and a scream rang out. The girl fell to the floor in a bow.

"I'm sorry!"

"No, no. It's okay." He pulled her up from the ground carefully. She pulled back, afraid. He let his hands fall and turned to the balcony. She left, the door creaking. He picked up the broken vase and dropped it in the trash on his way out the door.

The looks from the servants on his way down the stairs lasted longer and longer as he made his way through the manor. Finally, five floors later he walked out into the dimming light that filled the sky.

His feet walked him through the town and into the trees.

- - - - -

"Nnnnnn," the boy groaned as he sat up. He looked around in a daze. The forest was black with the night. He pulled himself up off the ground and shook the leaves off. A crash sounded, far off in the dark.

He hugged himself, wishing he had thought to bring a jacket, and started back to the manor. Even in the dark he knew his way through the trees. Another crash sounded, this time much closer. His heartbeat quickened, as did his pace.

His head shot forward suddenly and his sight dimmed as he fell to the ground as a tree limb landed on him.

He snuggled deeper into the pillows. His eyes opened, he was back in the manor, but not any room he knew. He sat up, pain flying through his head. Fear washed over him. The sounds of footsteps grew until the young lord entered the room. They stared when their eyes met.

"Are you ok?"

He nodded, not trusting his voice to hold steady. A few minutes of silence spread, hanging awkwardly in the air. Their eyes were still locked on each others. Finally the silence was broken.

"What happened?"

"I think I hit you with a branch?" The lord said, his eyes falling to the ground.

"Why would you-" he started boldly.

"I didn't mean to! I wasn't expecting someone to be walking around in the dark." He started to pace back and forth in front of the bed. "I shouldn't have... I shouldn't have..." he mumbled under his breath.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize!"

The boy dropped his gaze. He felt a finger under his chin. He looked up.

"Please don't do that."

The boys breath caught, he turned away.

"I'm sorry," he climbed off the bed and left, turning a corner quickly before the lord could follow. He had remembered an order, he couldn't break it.

The lord looked after him, his hand rested on the bed.

"Why does he do that?"

* * *

A/N: So, how do you like? Critiques are welcome. I hope you like it. The next ones should follow soon since school is out for Christmas, and I have nothing to do during the day. Yay!

Thanks to all who reviewed Act I !!!

To FlyingMetalChild: I haven't ignored what you said in fact I tried to change it some, but yea... I couldn't do it. I'll try to work on it in the future. Thanks for the amazingly helpful review!

-MJ

* * *


	3. Act 3: The Dinner

Disclaimer: You know what goes here.

The Unfinished Painting

Act III: The Limb

Accusations flew as the boy returned. The lord's harsh words stung him as he sat, listening but thoughts elsewhere. The lord's rant finally ended, and the boy left. He walked slowly to his room, his hands trembling. He entered his room and leaned heavily against the door, closing it the rest of the way. Minutes passed before he moved. His fingers passed across the back of his head and the bruised spot that was surely to turn into a bump. Tripping over a corner of a rug sent him stumbling across the room to his bed. He sat on the bed, his eyes locking on a brush barely peeking out from underneath the bed.

He picked up the brush and rubbed its fine bristles across his palm. A smile widened across his face. He knelt and pulled a wide canvas out. Color scrawled across the bottom half, he bumped around under the bed until his hand hit the bag he was looking for. He pulled it out and opened it, searching for the right color. He dipped the brush in the paint and held the brush over the canvas. The brush streaked across the blank white space. He sighed as he finished the section. He placed the canvas back under his bed and fell to his pillow and asleep.

- - - - -

"A dinner?"

"Yes, in your honor."

"Has he told you why?"

"No," the servant replied.

"I see." The young lord sat back, his eyes closing drowsily. The servant excused himself quietly then left. The lord sat frozen in his chair for a while before rising. He stripped himself of the bedclothes he had been wearing for the past few days. He pulled on the pants from the masque, the fabric bringing new memories to the surface. The boots, his father had given him a week before his death, were laced up slowly and carefully. He finally finished lacing the last boot, the fabric rising to just above his knee. He stood and stretched out the leather of the boots. The beige skin resisted hesitantly. He pulled on a matching shirt. He leaned over to get a coat and caught his reflection in the mirror. The face looking back at him was not his. It was, but wasn't. There was a new look that hadn't been there before. He sighed and rubbed his shaggy hair into tenuous submission. He pulled on a thin duster that clung tight to his chest then flared out dramatically.

After staring out the window for a few minutes the turned and started down the stairs to the main dining hall. Stares and whispers followed him. It was to be expected, not one person had seen him in a week. A young maid walked up to him, as he entered the dining hall. She ushered him to his seat at the end of the table, directly facing the lord at the head. The noblemen surrounding him grumbled their displeasure at being so fare from the grace of the lord. He, however was content. He glared at the lord, who stared back malice in his eyes. Last week the lord had come into his room and had berated him mercilessly, for no apparent reason, at least to him. Since that moment he had taken to hating his godfather and uncle. A lady tapped the elder lord's hand. He smiled at her and the staring contest between the two lords ended. As the lord's gaze drifted from his godfather and the dark-haired lady he was talking to, golden hair came into view.

The boy leant over to refill the lord's cup, but was stopped by a hand on his wrist. If the young lord had not been watching at that moment, he would have missed the boy's eyes glazing over. The boy stepped back as he returned to normal, his face was blank. There was something different about him. The young lord's attention focused fully on the exchanges of the opposite end of the table.

As the first course was served, the lord called the boy to him. He whispered something in his ear. The boy's face darkened at what was said. He nodded sharply and rushed off. He didn't return until the start of the final course. The course started, but was quickly stopped when the lord stood and called for everyone's attention. The lord's eyes bored heavily down on the younger lord.

"As, I expect, everyone has heard, my godson has come to live at this manor until a future date. As my brother's son, god rest his soul, I have taken a great liking to him, and it pains me dearly to see him distraught over his recent troubles. I fear that his loneliness may consume his soul." There were murmurs throughout the table, glances were thrown to the younger lord, who only glared at the lord standing across the table. "Silence!" The lord commanded. When the room quieted, he continued. "Therefore I have arranged that three days from now, my godson, nephew and soon to be heir will marry."

"What?!" the lord exclaimed. As he jumped to his feet, glasses on the table near him shattered. Liquids poured out spilling down onto the dresses of the ladies. They backed away from the table, many spilling onto the floor when their chairs tipped from the sudden movement.

"This young lady has traveled far to marry you." As the lord spoked the lady next to him, who he had been speaking to throughout the dinner stood. She brushed her hair away from her face and turned to him. Her eyes were as dark as her hair. They pained him, they were as his mother's were. The lord sighed, the memory of his mother stealing all his anger and energy. He sat back down, slouching in his chair. A small smile spread across the girl's face and her eyes held a gleam he could not yet place.

* * *

A/n: Yay! I'm completely done!!! YAY! (This isn't the last one, but the fourth was typed before this.) 

hmmm... I've been thinking, and this story is alot like the Eragon movie. (Jumps around too much, and doesn't make alot of sense.)

Eh... well! I hope you like it, and read the fourth please.

Thanks to reviewers!!

-MJ


	4. Act 4: The Balcony

Disclaimer: Dun own it... yea...

The Unfinished Painting

Act IV: The Balcony

The lord sat on the balcony, the only place where he could get away from the company of his new wife. She called the balcony unsafe. She even chuckled that he would fall to his death from it. As it was, the lord spent his days on the balcony and his nights staring at the ceiling as fragile arms wrapped themselves around him.

One day she burst through the door with a wailing servant in tow. The young lord turned and his jaw dropped. The wailing stopped.

"Dearest! Look what your uncle has given me. Isn't he precious?"

The lord simply nodded. His mind and heart were racing.

"I must go. There is to be a plat put on in the courtyard. Will you not go?" The young woman tried desperately to get her husband to accompany her anywhere, but his reply was always a mumbled: 'Not today.'

As the lady turned, her hair and dress twisted in the wind. The lord stepped into the room and locked the balcony doors. A knock resonated through the silence, the boy shrieked from his spot on the floor before running to open the door. The elder servant carried a thing box and a bag into the room.

"The lord has sent me with your things." The boy graciously took the box from the man, a violent blush on his face. The bag was dropped softly to the ground and the servant left.

"Here, let me show you to your room." The young lord picked up the bag and placed it in the small servants quarters attached to the room. The boy slid the box under the bed, and breathed heavily before turning to the lord with a smile.

"My lord, what do you bid of me?" The boy's voice quavered.

"Do as you wish." The lord turned curtly, his hand hitting the side of the door as he did. He gasped, his hand cradled against his chest.

"Are you okay?" the boy asked, suddenly next to the lord.

"Yes," the lord replied moving into the main room. He sat at his desk as the boy roamed the room. The lord's eyes left the boy only when the boy would look at him. The boy finally stood next to the desk. The looked down at the book in the lord's hands and frowned.

- - - - -

"Why did the lord give you up?" The lord asked without turning to the boy. He took a step back sorrow filled his face for a second but faded quickly.

"I am a greedy, bossy brat who is trying to drive his lordship to an early grave with my actions," the boy recited. Just last night, after a simple request, the lord had bestowed him with those, and much more hurtful, words. Then the next morning, this morning, he was torn from his bed and thrown into the hands of the awful lady who pulled him kicking up to the room. The lord had turned and now looked up at the boy, a question in his eyes, but none on his tongue.

The boy bowed, excused himself, and moved to his new room. He locked the door, wary that his secret would be found. He pulled the treasure from its box under the bed and stared at it. As he was picking up a brush, the doors to the main room flew open and a shrill voice called him forth. When exited the room he noticed the lord was settling down into a chair on the balcony.

- - - - -

The days continued in a regular fashion. The lady would rise early and gripe until she was dressed then she would leave for a majority of the day, and returned after dinner. She would then talk nonstop about her day until the lord retired, she would then dismiss the boy and join her husband.

While the mistress was gone the two would talk, that is until one sentence was uttered that changed everything.

But before a reply could be said, the lady came into the room.

- - - - -

The lord stared intently at the ceiling his eyes rolled over to the door across the room then back to the ceiling. As he did, a small noise came from the person attached to him like a leech. She moved her head farther onto his chest. "I love you," she whispered before falling back to sleep. The lord's eyes fell to the door. The boy was staring at him, when he saw that the lord was looking at him he turned and went to the closet. Muffled noised came from the other side of the door for quite some time. The door opened and a flourish of color and fabric flew out.

The leech stirred, her eyes flew open and she squealed when she saw the dress. She flew out of the bed. "Oh me! You did a wonderful job." She held the dress to her and giggled. "Don't I look beautiful?" She asked her husband. He nodded without looking at her. She rushed off into the closet, pulling the boy with her. The lord pulled on a shirt and a fresh pair of pants. He sat at his desk, a book pulled close to his face.

"Dearest."

He lowered the book. Twirling colors twisted in front of him. The young lady came to a stop and posed, it was breathtaking, but the lord was distracted. He frowned and the lady did too.

"What is it?"

"Nothing, you look nice," he said, standing next to her.

She squealed and hugged him tightly. Eyes locked over her. She ran off fabric billowing in the wind behind her.

As the door, shut the lord sat at the desk. He opened the book, but the letters didn't form any words. He looked up but the room was empty. He went to the boy's door and pushed it open. The boy turned his face had a line of black across it.

"Get out!" he screamed.

The lord shut the door, a confused expression on his face. He shook his head and moved to the desk. He was looking out the window when the door opened. The boy stood by the door his eyes on the ground.

"I'm sorry," the boy mumbled.

The young lord stood and stepped toward the other.

"It's ok," he said, walking closer. "I should have knocked."

"Did you need something?"

"You've got something on your face." The lord rubbed the boy's cheek with his thumb. The boy looked up at him. The lord leaned down and kissed him softly. When he pulled back, the boy was staring at him, his face red. The lord took a step back weary of what he would do. Suddenly, the boy moved. He grabbed the lord's hair and pulled him down to him. A coy smile spread across his face and he kissed the lord back. The pair moved to the bed, locked together. The lord pulled off the boy's shirt, his hands hovering over the boys skin. The boy pulled at the lord's shirt, but it was stuck. The lord shifted, and pulled his shirt off. The boy started to unlace the lord's pants, his hands were back at the waistband when he heard something. He stopped. The lord nuzzled at his neck.

"What's wrong?" he asked when he noticed the boy wasn't moving.

"She's coming back. I just heard her laugh."

The lord looked at him closely, just then running feet ran by the room and a loud laugh rang out. They both jumped to their feet. The pair sat up both looking at the door in horror. The boy streaked out of the room, to the balcony. He had just reached the door when the main doors opened.

"Get back here!" The mistress screamed. The boy peeked through the doorway. The lord was standing next to the bed his hands still on his laces. The lady looked at her husband then switched her eyes to the boy, her gaze shrinking to a glare.

"I'll kill you!" she screamed running at the boy she paused only for a second at the doorway to the balcony before charging at the boy she pushed him against the railing. The one second she paused gave the lord enough time to over take her and grab the boy's hand as he fell over the railing.

The lord cringed as his arm dug into the sharp edged of the railing. The boy was holding on with both of his hands. He looked down then back up. He stared at the stream of blood running down the lord's arm.

"Let go," he called.

The lord shook his head no.

"You must!"

The girl gasped and ran back into the chamber.

"Let go!" the boy cried again.

"I won't," the lord growled.

A loud creak sounded. The lord's eyes widened as the balcony gave way. The pair's hands separated as they fell. "I love you too." The lord said with a smile.

- - - - - -

Kazahaya gasped as he sat up in his bed. He rubbed his eyes to find they were wet with tears. He sniffled quietly and looked around the room. He saw Rikuo sleeping in a chair at the end of his bed. Something behind him caught his eye. A large painting was leaning against the wall.

His curiosity was aroused so he climbed out of his bed. His muscles ached as he walked across the room. It was too dark to see where he was so he moved the painting to the window. The moonlight lit up the painting. The golden frame glittered.

An odd feeling ran over him. He had seen this painting before. He rubbed over the slight ridges in the paint. His fingers tracing the line of the jaw, the black of the hair. His brow furrowed when he saw that the eyes were blank, no color or lines at all. He touched them softly. He pulled back quickly when a small jolt ran through him. They couldn't be done. The right eyes couldn't have been put in yet. He frowned and looked at the ground then back up. He stared as the eyes were colored in. Deep emerald eyes stared back at him. The eyes held a smile, bright and glowing.

A warm feeling spread over him. The feeling ended in his lips. He touched them softly. He kissed his fingers then pressed them on the painting. He smiled lazily. A tiredness washed over him. After he put the portrait back, he fell back into bed. "I guess he's finally finished his painting," he sighed as he fell asleep. Joy filled his dreams as he slept.

- - - - -

Rikuo watched as Kazahaya finished the job. He smiled when he saw him rubbing his lips. After Kazahaya fell asleep Rikuo carried the portrait downstairs. Kakei was in his office, Rikuo stopped at the doorway, it looked as if he was sleeping.

"He's beautiful when he's asleep isn't he?" Saiga whispered in his ear. Kakei's head jerked up. He turned, a dazed look disappearing as he noticed Rikuo.

"I see Kudo-kun has woken up."

"Yea," Rikuo replied. He placed the portrait on the couch. He went back to the first time they had seen the portrait. The job has simply been: Go to house, grab painting, bring back. It had all gone great until Kazahaya saw the painting. He'd touched it in amazement, laughing. When he touched it he collapsed. Rikuo caught him, expecting him to wake up as he always did, but he didn't. He had pulled Kazahaya to his feet, but he still had a grip on the painting. It wasn't until he had gotten him back to the drug store, and up to the room that he had loosened his grip enough that the painting could be pulled away from him. That had been two days ago.

Rikuo had kept the painting with him after Kakei refused to take it. 'It's not finished,' he had said when Rikuo had offered it to him. Kakei had told him to leave the painting in Kazahaya's room at night, and he had done that. He just stayed there too. He didn't like the portrait. It gave him a funny feeling.

The group exchanged words before Rikuo left, his eye growing heavy. He chuckled quietly as he climbed the stairs, words of torment entering his head. 'Making out with paper now are you?' He couldn't wait to see Kazahaya's reaction.

- - - - -

As Rikuo walked back upstairs Kakei looked up at the sky. Saiga's arm draped over his shoulder. They stood looking up at the stars in silence.

"How cruel destiny can be," Kakei sighed, lacing his fingers with Saiga's. The silence grew again.

"There are two more stars in the sky," Saiga said. As they turned a pair of shooting stars raced across the sky.

* * *

A/n: oooh... I just noticed that line thingamajigger... Yea... That's sad I know. anyway... This was supposed to be the last two chapters, but I just stuck the ending on here. I think it goes better...

Ehh... I liked this alot more writing it. I think its because it played out in my head, and things I saw didn't make it on the page. Sorry about that.

ANYWAY!!! I hope you liked it. And if not. I'm sorry. (Thanks to the reviewers again.)

-MJ


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